In League
by WhiteKitsuneFox
Summary: Sadia, the Gentle Strongarm, is the newest member of the League, and was a simple Demacian farmgirl, taught by her soldier brother how to fight and use her defensive magic. Naive as she is, interactions at the Institute of War will be interesting! Will eventually include all of the champions in the best representation I can make. Current: Sadia is ready for her reflection!
1. The League of Legends

**Chapter One:** _the League of Legends_

Carefully, I descend the stairs. It is midnight, and the moon is full over our small Demacian farm. Not even the mice in the stable yard dare to move. My mother is curled in her room and bed, and I have gone to get her some water for her fever. She needs it, and though the summer is too hot for me to go without water, the well is nearly dry. Mother needs it more than me.

I go out to the pump, but behind me I hear a noise. Seems simple enough on the surface… No. It's clearly footsteps, emerging from the wood. I swing out my arm behind me, and it collides with flesh. My adrenaline is already thumping through my veins, but when I look down to see the person I've struck, it's Ivan, the mild-mannered apothecary that attends to my mother when his master's gone to bed. I curse quietly, but drag him up to his feet. I always underestimate my strength.

"Don't go skulking about like that!" I tell him firmly. "You scared me to death!"

Ivan nurses his cheek. It's already forming a nice, hefty bruise – surely it'll be a welt by morning. "You weren't the only one scared, Sadia. I tried to make noise! Just like you always tell me to."

I grimace. Yes, I have told him that. I should be less jumpy, but after what happened to my brother out on the battlefield, I didn't want the same happening to me. He was strung up by Noxian spies, beaten to death. And with all the people reporting Noxian spies these days…

"You ever considered picking up Erick's old blade?"

As I'm carrying the pail back to the house, his question strikes me. I glare down at the moonlight reflecting on the water's shimmering surface. "No. Of course not. It's his blade; why should I pick it up? And anyway, I don't want to pick up my blade against Noxus. Noxians scare me."

"Then what about the League?"

I let a dry chuckle pass my lips.

The League is the one thing that keeps the world on speaking terms. All the people too mad to continue living life normally or too narcissistic to want to go there. The pay's good, so I've heard, but it only accepts the best of the best. I'm but a simple farm girl, with a brother who died in the Demacian-Noxian war, who only was taught the most basic of self-defense to scrape by in a world full of spies and cold-blooded killers. And besides, I have a mother to take care of.

"Surprised you even suggested it, Ivan. I'm not _that_ good with a blade."

"C'mon, you've got skin like an armored lizard, D!" He chuckles a little, and punches my arm. Indeed, he isn't exaggerating, but it's entertaining to pretend to be in pain, especially when it's Ivan.

Though the prospect of money I could send back to Momma seems tempting…


	2. The Institute of War

**Chapter Two:** _the Institute of War_

_ The truest opponent lies within._

Thus reads the plaque above the high, gracefully arching doorway leading to my destination. There are no stairs, but I dismount my faithful steed and begin to lead him in through the marble door. I push it open tentatively, as if it may bite me, and Char follows me with equal trepidation and his ears pricked, his hoof beats marking the echoing tiles definitively with every step he makes. I'm almost positive the horse can hear something inside, but I'm not entirely certain what that inside may contain.

Three weeks after my first conversation with Ivan, I finally caved to the idea of money, so I made the trek on horseback to the Institute of War, where they say the Fields of Justice are. It seems just as grand as everyone makes them out to be, but from what little of the League they offer glimpses of in the Journals, I was unsure of the amounts of these rumors were true until now. I've seen in the photos of the Fields, but nothing like this.

The main thing that surprises me is that no one else is there.

Ivan warned me that the queue would take weeks to get through, but absolutely no one is standing in the grand atrium. A young man, though, well-worn by his line of work, frowns up at me from his desk up over his spectacles. Silence, save for Char blowing hot breaths in my ear as he nibbles my hair, befalls the atrium for the moment my beating heart takes to settle a tad more in my chest cavity from fluttering up into my throat. Magic hums lowly like the resonance of music in an open auditorium after a performance.

I wanted to mount up and turn around right that second. Second thoughts raged through my being. What if I died? What if I was never able to return to my mother? What if I was too scarred to never take another job again? What if children ran in fear from my terrifying form after the League? My hands tremble, and adrenaline keeps me from forming words.

"Hello; welcome to the Institute of War."

His words are quiet and gruff, returning me to the reality of Runeterra, bringing my eyes fall on the man. He's fairly scrawny, but has noticeable muscle and a scruffy square jawline. He must be what they call a summoner, one of the men in charge of keeping the Fields in top condition, and keeping the wily Champions at bay.

"Name, miss?"

"Sadia," comes my half-choked response. "Sadia Bladon."

"Specialties? Native country? I've never heard the name before."

His tone is clipped and annoyed at the appearance of yet another champion with no national recognition, no doubt, and justifiably so. Not just anyone has what it takes to be a champion, just as not just anyone knows this.

"Everyone says I don't feel pain like anyone else. My brother taught me how to fight and defend myself... He was in the Demacian Army... one of the ones that got strung up in Noxus City."

"Magic?" A crease furrows deeply into his brow.

"I've got a little..."

Mom, before she got sick, taught me a little bit of magic - a simple but strong caustic spell that burned the eyes and made even the strongest-willed to beg for the counter spell, but wore off quickly. I had only used it once; arcana was never my favorite thing to be toying with. Though, Erick taught me how to get people off of me physically, which I thought to be a better response to being cornered, shove off, dodge the flailing retaliation, and run.

He shrugs slightly, staring down at the half-blank paper in front of him. "Okay. You have to pass a written exam, and participate in an interview with a summoner, and if you pass those, you will engage in a reflection."

He rises to his feet, and leads me to a side room. On the table, there's a packet of papers and a charcoal pencil, which I frown down at. At the top of the page, there printed, are the words, "Institute Exam."

"You may take as long as you like. Go ahead and begin."

Another summoner takes his place, and I sit down to take the test.

I expected a more difficult exam. It mostly focused on Runeterran history and applications of practical things like morality. My mother's asked me harder questions. When I rest my pencil on the table, satisfied by my work, the summoner that had taken the first's position smiles warmly and takes my exam in hand. "Well done, Sadia. Are you ready for the interview? It's very simple – it helps us get to know who you are and what you've done so far."

"Alright."

"What are you?"

I immediately am reduced to having to think about it. No matter how well I did on the exam, I probably in the past two seconds have made myself seem more like an idiot than any human being can be.

"Demacian, a farm girl. Look, I want to make money for my mother to be able to live a comfortable life." My answer comes a bit too hastily out of my mouth, the rushed words slurred together into a defensive fluster.

Still, the summoner smiles. "I understand. Rural Demacia, as our own Quinn knows, can be rough living. What do you think makes you eligible for the League?"

Ivan's words echo in my head about my skin being more like an armored lizard's hide. "I'm tough. I haven't trained much with a blade but I know my way around both edges, and my brother taught me some self-defense. My mom taught me some magic – are you familiar with caustic spells?"

He nods. "We'll have to see if all you say is true. Have you worn armor?"

I think back. I do think I have some hunting armor back home, and I have trained for heavy armor, but never really worn it.

"Some."

He jots some things down, and sizes me up. "If you do well in the Reflection Chambers, you may be eligible to join the League. The Reflection should tell us the rest of what we need to know about you. This way, miss."

He takes me down another corridor to a large set of doors, more intricately carved than the entrance. They're made of a shined, dark material, like obsidian, so clear that I can see my reflection in them. I put my hand on the gilded handle, and it opens like I'm moving air. I slip in, and make my way into the fog. The world turns black as the obsidian door swings shut, as if nothing was there, and never had been, as dark as the Void or the sky on a cloudy, moonless night.


	3. The Reflection Chamber

**Chapter Three:** _The Reflection Chamber_

I come to my senses on a Demacian hillside, overlooking the mountains. Below me, theres roof. I squint to better see whatever the field holds. Near the edge of the battlefield, the very one that used to be my parents' birthplace, I think I see my father, with his ruffled chestnut brown hair waving slightly in the breeze.

"Papa!" I call out to him. He doesn't look up; his body is ragdolled with the others tossed to the side after the dogs were done playing.

Before Erick can grab me, I dart down the grassy hillside and stumble. The world spins over and under me as I roll, completely unable to bring my tumbling body to a halt. Slowly, the momentum dies and I am left stunned and dizzy at the foot of the hill; I can hear Erick calling for me, but it sounds like I'm underwater with all the ringing in my ears.

My eyes trail to Erick. He looks worried. And quickly, with the rough touch on my shoulders, I see why. I look up, and begin to scream, terror filling me as my eyes meet with a Noxian soldier's, a smug grin falling on his features. He says something, but I can't hear him. I'm struggling, crying, begging. His hands, those sick hands, claw and tear at my dress.

Someone calls, and he looks up. He throws my already-battered body to the ground, then glares at me.

"Why do you want to join the League, Sadia?"

Wait. That's not what's supposed to happen! He. I loved them too much for them to die. I could still save one of them. The otherst the best or the strongest. They were the most horrible beasts that ever walked the earth.

He repeats the question. My gut twists into a sickly knot.

"I don't know."

He repeats again.

My eyes fall on my father, blood matting the edge of his hair and splattered across his breastplate, motionless, his fingers curled with rigor mortis and mouth opened from his dying breath. My memory fades to seeing Erick, years after this event with my father, strung up, dangling limply from the rope holding him to a gnarled tree branch, his executioners chuckling like madmen to themselves, those Noxian pigs.

"So no one else has to die."

My voice is somber and quiet, but the response is true. Erick, Father, and now Mother…. I loved them too much for them to die. I could still save one of them. The others… I could get vengeance in the League. Too many Noxians got away with their war crimes. They needed to know that they weren't the best or the strongest. They were the most horrible beasts that ever walked the earth.

The vision fades, and I'm back in the stagnant hall of the Institute. No fresh breeze toys with my hair, and no sounds meet my ears but my breathing. A new summoner, blonde and about my age with her robes tied with a strand of rope around her middle, smiles at me as I sit in tears, struggling to collect myself.

"I think you're the strongest champion yet. Congratulations, Sadia Bladon, Gentle Strongarm of Demacia, and welcome to the League of Legends."

She comes up to me, and wraps her arms about me in a hug. "I see it all, you know. What happens in your reflection is public to all the Summoners, but the Champions don't have to know. Come with me, I'll show you to the commons."

I feel only slightly reassured by her kind words, but follow her nonetheless.

A long hall separates the reflection chamber from the commons door, which, compared to the other doors I've been through, seems small and far too simple. The young Summoner steps up to the door, and it opens of its own accord. "Have fun. The inhibitors should keep you safe in the commons, but that's not saying that you won't run into a scrap or two. Your first match, which will decide if we keep you or not, will be tomorrow. You should get acquainted with the other Demacians, as they will be your team, so you feel more comfortable."

The commons is simple and cozy. There's a fireplace, a bar, a multitude of tables, and a series of hallways branching off of it, each labeled with a rune representing each country. I recognized Demacia and Noxus, but I could only assume that the others were the same idea. Around the room, Champions mingle, drink, fondle their weapons, gamble and gossip. What made the room louder was the pair of champions bellowing their lungs out at each other and the senseless babble throughout the commons.

At a table to my left sat a young man, probably in his mid-twenties, with spiked brown hair and a vainglorious grin lit across his features. The man sitting beside him glanced up from sharpening and cleaning his axe... He's Darius, the Hand of Noxus… the very executioner that oversaw my brother's execution. He has to be, with an axe that big. They looked similar enough to be brothers, but Darius was quiet.

In a tone steeped with pompousness, the first drawled, "Well, well, well. If it isn't another little lassie for the League, eh?"

The Noxian crest is on the headband holding his hair from his eyes.


End file.
